


Our Awful Battles

by RandomLetter



Category: Cats (1998), Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber
Genre: Angst and Feels, Attempt at Humor, F/M, Family Feels, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Generally Bad, M/M, Munkustrap & Rum Tum Tugger are Siblings, Rated For Violence, Whump, long fic, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:01:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29909757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomLetter/pseuds/RandomLetter
Summary: A couple of months passed since the Jellicle Ball. Things should be going back to normal, but the consequences of that fateful night seem to haunt the Jellicles. Doubts, regrets, fights, and some very strange neighbors - will the tribe, and in particular its Guardian, be able to deal with all this and stay in one piece?
Relationships: Bombalurina & Demeter (Cats), Demeter/Munkustrap (Cats), Mr. Mistoffelees/Rum Tum Tugger (Cats), Mungojerrie & Rumpleteazer (Cats), Munkustrap & Rum Tum Tugger
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	1. Days in the sun

**Author's Note:**

> _Apparently, I grew up under a rock, because I only saw the brilliant 1998 movie this year, and it just stayed with me. Not being able to get it out of my head the conventional way, I'm writing this. You can guess my favorite song from the title (that's a lie, I loved all of them), but really I just found it interesting to venture outside the Junkyard and see what other gangs in the city are up to. You can even say I was curious ;)  
>  First time I 'borrow' chapter names. They are cheesy. They are what it says on the tin. They are bad. I'm proud of them, so you're welcome to hate them.  
> Long fic, but I update regularly.  
> A couple of notes for a better reading experience: 1) they're physiologically cats, so even if they do human-ish things, they're doing it being cats. Sorry, I can't write anthropomorphic.  
> 2) I know all cats are supposed to be Jellicle cats, and all dogs are supposed to be Pollicle dogs. But we clearly hear about there being Pugs, Pomes, and Pekes, as well as see Macavity's henchmen who are definitely not Jellicles in the play, I took it as more of a gang thing than a species thing.  
> 3) brothers-centric, other relationships in the background, just FYI._

It was one of the rare sunny days in early autumn, and every piece of metal scrap in the junkyard glowed like a lamp with reflected sunlight. The piles of garbage hiding the dens cast long shadows on the winding routes between them. The air already lost its summer sweetness, but was still warm enough for sunbathing. Munkustrap looked around the junkyard one more time, absentmindedly grooming Demeter's ear. Half-asleep, she purred quietly, but in the quiet of the morning even this sound was loud enough to echo across the small even patch of fridge doors and chair seats they found away from the main clearing, close to the wrought iron fence surrounding the junkyard. Between the balls, Jellicles visited the junkyard on their own schedules, and there were rarely more than half a dozen cats around before midday. Right now, there were only three of them: naturally, Jennyanydots couldn't miss out on the opportunity to spend a sunny day sleeping on a tire. Munkustrap himself wouldn't be at the junkyard if he didn't come over the previous night to spend it with his mate. Although he was frequenting the junkyard more than he used to, and not always for such a pleasant reason.

'He's not here,' Demeter murmured and flicked her ear.

'I'm sorry?' Munkustrap asked, getting out of his reverie.

'Rum Tum Tugger. I can sense you're looking for him,' she said. Munkustrap wanted to tell her to relax and not be so cautious of everything, but realized the advice would sound hollow coming from him.

'I'm not,' he lied instead.

'Then maybe ten minutes is enough for one ear? A bit more grooming and I'll have to pass on Bom's invitation to go out to Holborn next week on account of being too sore.' She turned to him, now fully awake. He averted his gaze in embarrassment. Demeter sighed and nuzzled his neck. 'Maybe that's your cue to go easier?' Demeter chuckled into his fur, sending pleasant waves of warmth down his spine. 'You've been too hard on him lately.'

'Because he doubled down on being unpredictable after the ball!' Munkustrap said, shaking his head and curling his paws under himself. 'He says he'll come over, and disappears for a week. He's happy to chat up every cat in the vicinity, but as soon as I ask him to show them around the town, he's nowhere to be found. And right when I need him most!'

'For what?' She chuckled again.

'I just…' Munkustrap tried very hard to relax, he knew his mate would feel him tensing up and didn't want to upset her. 'The junkyard, the Jellicles, you, our neighbors, the balls… I thought I could take care of everything…'

'And what changed?'

'I was proven wrong,' he said, his voice finally faltering on the last word. Munkustrap blinked to get rid of the vision of the ball. Alonzo, and then the whole tribe, fighting Macavity as the Jellicle Guardian couldn't even lift his paw. Demeter sighed, but didn't say anything. 'I know, I know,' he rambled on as if she did. 'Alonzo helps with protector training, and you deal with lookouts, and everyone chips in from time to time… But nobody knows about the Jellicle Cats and how we do things more than myself and Rum Tum, dad taught us everything he knew. And if I can't take care of things…' He felt his neck strap tighten. 'I need him to be there. And after the ball, I thought it wouldn't be that difficult! I was so proud of him. He behaved, thought up how bring father back… And the way he serenaded Mistoffelees, calling him marvelous and phenomenal... I really hoped he was finally being serious.'

'One serenade doesn't really make a mate,' she remarked dryly. Given her experience with relationships that started beautifully only to end in tragedy and horror, Munkustrap wasn't surprised she was skeptical about public displays of affection.

'Let me rephrase that.' He smirked. 'Rum Tum Tugger called someone besides himself phenomenal.' She snickered, and another pleasant wave ran through Munkustrap's body.  
'Yes, that doesn't sound like him at all. Did you ask him about it?'

'Not about Mistoffelees specifically, but I asked if he was seeing anyone, to which he replied that he was seeing everyone.' Munkustrap winced. 'I shouldn't have asked. He must have felt like I was trying to control his personal life… But I guess you're right,' he said, recalling his recent observations. 'They never as much as talk to each other, and Rum Tum keeps flirting with everyone in the junkyard. Whatever they had, it must have ended. Just another one of my brother's flings...' He couldn't contain a heavy sigh.

Demeter scoffed. 'And what's wrong with that? They're both young toms, things happen. Since when are you such a prude?'

'It'd be fine on its own, but… all the little things together… Rum Tum's coming to the junkyard less and less, he's absentminded and irresponsible, isn't taking real interest in anyone but himself, he's just becoming more and more like…' His breath hitched. 'He's becoming more and more like our mother.'

Demeter leaned back and gave him a pitying look.

'He won't become an outcast,' she said softly. 'You're not going to have to send him away. You make everything work, any hopeless case. Remember me when I showed up at the gates? Or Jerrie and Teazer, and oh, they're a paw-ful! You've never turned down anyone…' she trailed off, confidence and admiration shining in her eyes. Munkustrap looked away, not wanting to see the sentiment he felt he didn't deserve.

'Nobody turned down Grizabella, not at the start,' he said in a small voice. 'She left us out of her own volition. She just didn't realize she'd want to come back. And when she did… Well, that's when the tribe didn't accept her. I'm afraid the same will happen to Rum Tum,' he spoke around the lump in his throat. 'I've always feared that, more than anything. I can't lose him, too,' Munkustrap said, brow furrowed in zigzags of black and silver, like an unfinished puzzle. He turned back to Demeter, only to get lost in her concerned green eyes.

'Is that why you've been grueling him this last month?'

'I just don't know what else to tell him,' he said with a shrug. 'He might not think much of me, but he respects Old Deuteronomy. I thought if I reminded him of our responsibility for our father's legacy, it would at least make him think. Bringing up Old Deut always worked in the past. But last time he just didn't seem to care,' he shuddered a bit, remembering their recent quarrel.  
He didn't tell Demeter, but Rum Tum Tugger didn't just 'seem not to care'. The last words his brother threw at him before storming off still hurt, like they were burned into his mind:

'And what about _your_ responsibilities?!' Rum Tum Tugger blew up after a long speech Munkustrap gave him on being responsible and how they needed to follow in their father's footsteps. 'All the Jellicles had to fend off Macavity at the ball, I came up with an idea how to get Old Deut back, and Misto actually went ahead and did it. And what exactly did you accomplished the whole night? Some Jellicle Guardian you are! Maybe you should just stick to storytelling,' he spat, and left. That was a week ago.

He didn't mean to put that much pressure on his brother. And he was sure the frivolous tom didn't mean to be crass, either. But as much as the guardian attributed the words to the heat of the moment, some little part of him, some minuscule, unnamed, almost forgotten part of him was telling him that those words, however hurtful, were true. That's why he made sure to drop by the junkyard every day, just to make sure everything was fine, to be the protector he was expected to be. But self-doubt refused to loosen its leash, and only Demeter could take his mind off this sad subject, albeit temporarily.


	2. A notorious couple of cats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for Teazer's accent, might be hard to read:)

The morning lazily rolled over the junkyard, like an old napping cat. As the sun rose higher, Jellylorum joined Jennyanydots on the tire, catching a break from her daily duties. The bustle of the morning city activity from beyond the wrought iron fence died down a bit, and only the metallic swoosh of an occasional passing car would break the peace and quiet. Munkustrap lied on his paws, mostly to contain his restlessness. Suddenly, Demeter perked up from where she fallen asleep next to him, turning around with a troubled look. His mate was, perhaps, too skittish at times, consequences of her troubled past, but he couldn't deny her perceptiveness. The guardian stood up, sniffed the air and strained his ears. Everything was quiet, but there was something in the air that spelled trouble. Like electricity before the storm.

Munkustrap went up one of the garbage piles, paws slipping on discarded bottles. As he reached the top of the mound, the wind blew in his face, carrying over a faint plea for help in a high-pitched slightly raspy voice he knew too well. He bolted towards the voice and almost bumped into its owner at the very gates of the junkyard.

'Teazer!' He looked over the small queen. She looked like she just went through every drawer in a three-storied house – disheveled beyond reason and sporting several scratches on her sides and muzzle. 'Teazer, what happened?'

'Munk! You've seen Jerrie?!' she blurted out, her big brown eyes frantic.

'No,' Munkustrap said, with a sinking feeling. The twins were almost inseparable, if one didn't know where the other was, trouble was abound.

'Oh, no! I've gotta come back for 'im!' She muttered, dashing towards the gates so fast Munkustrap barely managed to jump in front of her, blocking her path.

'Wait! First tell me what happened. Did you get caught stealing again?' He asked. He didn't approve of the twins' pastime, but had to admit they were very good. The one time they caught was back when they were still kittens, but breaking them out of the pound was a nightmare. He needed some information before he could attempt something like that again.

'No, it's Macavity!' She said, hyperventilating. Munkustrap heard a sharp hiss to his right, and knew that Demeter had caught up with them.

'Teazer, calm down, take a breath,' the guardian said in his best commanding voice, determined to stop the panic that wasn't doing anyone any good. He waited for her to comply. 'Now, tell me what happened, all of it.'

'We went on a small heist in Belgravia, waf nofing, we just wanted to have fun, rummage veir drawers, mifplace everyfing. And when we 'ere coming back, Macavity's gang ambushed us! Whenever we end up in trouble we dash in opposite directions and meet 'ere. It alwayf worked. But he's not 'ere! They must've got 'im!' She said, on the verge of tears. 'I bet is cause Jerrie refused to work for him after the ball!'

'You… You spoke to Macavity after the ball?' He knew it was an ill-timed question, but he just couldn't contain himself. Who in their right mind would talk to that monster, let alone antagonize him?

'Not me! Jerrie did,' she jabbered. 'Said he won' do anyfing for Macavity anymore. Said stealing nick-knacks 's one thing, but you can't hurt the Jellicles. Feline, fearless, faiful an' true,' she sniffled, and Munkustrap staggered back from the pang of guilt, hearing the echo of his own words. Being the Storyteller, he always felt it was his responsibility to teach the kittens about being a Jellicle Cat. And those words about how to treat other Jellicles weren't in one of their favorite songs for nothing. He taught it to them. And he even felt a surge of pride when he saw Mungojerrie take a swipe at Macavity after he himself got beaten up by the villain. He never meant for it to lead to this. It was becoming a trend lately, but Munkustrap refused to examine his feelings on the matter.

'We'll talk about it later,' he told both to himself and the cat in front of him. 'Now, Teazer, where did you last see Jerrie?'

'There's an alley 'hind Shepherd Market…'

Munkustrap furrowed his brow, taking stock of the situation. The back alleys of that area, frequented by multiple tribes of cats for all the leftovers from the nearby pubs, were about six miles to the south. He'd have to get there fast if he had any hope of seeing Mungojerrie alive. And no time to take conventional cat routes - that would almost double the distance, he'd never make it in time. But running straight to his target meant he'd have to cross at least two other tribes' territories. They had good relationships with neighbors, but cats running wild outside the routes could easily be mistaken for thieves or intruders. Without the strength in numbers it was downright dangerous. But he didn't have much of a choice – Alonzo and others weren't there. So he would have to make a run for it and pray to the Everlasting Cat that even if he was spotted, one cat would be considered too low of a threat to react to.

'Demeter,' he turned to his mate. 'Look after her. I'll get Jerrie.' She nodded, the unease in her eyes evidence of the same thoughts were going through her mind. She moved, as if to volunteer to go with him, but contained herself, which told him she arrived at the same conclusions.

'No!' Teazer butted in. 'I'm goin' wiv you!'

'You're staying here, I can't be looking after both of you,' he cut her off, and, seeing her desperate expression, added, in a softer tone. 'I'll bring him back, I promise.' It was an empty promise, but it was all he got. Not knowing what else he could say, Munkustrap turned around, squeezed between the grills of the junkyard fence and ran south as fast as his paws would carry him.


	3. In a by-street

The streets, half-empty in the middle of the working day, swept past like a kaleidoscope of shops, human legs, and car tires. His legs were aching from being laid on for half a day and then required to carry him for several of miles so urgently. Munkustrap tried to pace himself, mindful that completely winded he would be no good in a fight, but couldn't bring himself to slow down even for a moment. He counted streets, and turns, and cat trails he was crossing to maneuver into the right turns at high speed, but also to keep himself from thinking how, whatever happens, it would be his fault for not dealing with Macavity in time. Rum Tum Tugger was right, some Jellicle Guardian he was.

He was almost halfway to the alley Rumpleteazer mentioned, when he heard scrambling from a by-street. Ahead of his brain, his paws realized that Mungojerrie wouldn't just stay in one place and wait to be dealt with. Munkustrap stopped abruptly, catching his breath. He approached the side street, carefully peeking around the corner - London was full of squabbles between clans, tribes and gangs any time of the day, no need getting into trouble that didn't concern you. The side street was a small, no more than two yards wide and fifteen yards deep, dead-end sandwiched between three brick buildings of the same dark burgundy color you would find everywhere in the city. The dark walls made the path between them look grim and uninviting even in the middle of the day. With a mix of terror and relief, the guardian saw Mungojerrie still alive and unscathed, but backed into a corner where the buildings met. The thief's back arched, a ridge of raised fur along his spine, fangs bared and his usually cheerful eyes aglow with both fear and rage. In front of him stood five cats – young toms like himself. They might have been any color to start with, but at the moment they all looked dark-grey due to all the dirt and dust accumulated in their fur. Mungojerrie was hissing at them furiously, but they were slowly closing in on him.

Hiding behind the trash cans at the mouth of the dead-end, Munkustrap quickly glanced around the dirty alley, and was relieved, but not surprised, that Macavity wasn't there. Of course he wouldn't debase himself by chasing kittens across West End; he'd leave his dirty work to others. All the better for the Jellicles.

The situation was very clear. Although Munkustrap was bigger and older than the toms in front of him, five against two still wasn't a favorable matchup. The safest thing was to jump them from behind, get at least a couple out of the way to equal their chances. He almost decided on this course of action when he remembered two small kittens, almost black from dirt and oil in their coats, whom Alonzo caught stealing some sausage from the junkyard just over a year ago. And now one of those kittens was defying the most dangerous cat in London because it was the right thing to do. But back then, surely they weren't that different from these toms: young, desperate, uncared for…

'You never turned down anyone,' the echo of Demeter's words resounded in the guardian's ears like a message from the Everlasting Cat herself.

He froze in his tracks, no longer able to go through with his plan. Munkustrap took a deep breath, ruffled his fur to make himself look more intimidating, his side whiskers bristling almost like Rum Tum Tugger's mane.

'Leave him alone,' he barked, entering the side street and giving up the advantage of surprise. 'You don't have to fight. Go where you came from and tell Macavity he gave you the slip,' he didn't add 'and then get out yourselves' – one step at a time.

As soon as he started talking, all the fighters turned to him, anxiety running across young toms' faces, hope lighting up Jerrie's.

Toms looked at each other and spread out, three of them surrounding the guardian. 'There's five of us, and only two of you, Jellicle,' one of the toms scoffed. 'What do you think you're doing?'

'Giving you a fighting chance,' Munkustrap said in a low voice, pinning back his ears, standing astride for balance and leaning down on his front paws in a pose that was best to aim for the opponent's throat. 'Last warning. Leave now, or it won't end well.'

That did gave toms a pause, and they stopped abruptly, looking from one to another, too nervous to be the first to take on a fully grown tomcat who clearly knew how to fight. For a moment, Munkustrap even thought he'd actually manage to get out of the predicament without a fight. But then, without any warning, Mungojerrie leapt forward, landing half-way between the two toms who were still focused on him and Munkustrap.

'Jerrie, no!' the guardian shouted and moved forward, but the moment was gone. He lost concentration and the next thing he knew he was in a middle of a first-rate scrap. The young toms were enthusiastic, he gave them that. But they weren't well-trained. Unlike the Jellicles, who had both Alonzo and Munkustrap for teachers, these cats, in all likelihood, only had each other to learn from. Their hits resembled pawing at a half-dead rat, a far cry from the real strikes the likes of which Munkustrap and Macavity exchanged in a fight. Still, there were five of them, and Munkustrap knew well that even a weak hit is enough to do a lot of damage if it's well-placed.

He couldn't even see Mungojerrie behind other toms' backs, so he concentrated on his own attackers. The first one foolishly jumped at Munkustrap from the side, clearly not understanding any subtleties of a fight, such as getting the hell out of the way. Munkustrap dodged his pounce, accidentally ramming into another tom. The guardian regained his balance and quickly jumped back, striking the first gang member on the head with enough force to send him flying into one of the walls surrounding the narrow street. Before the guardian could turn around, a stabbing pain exploded in his back. He hissed and glanced over his shoulder. The tom who had been standing behind him before the fight was clawing at his back and trying to drag him to the ground. Seeing his friend's success, the third young thug pounced at Munkustrap and bit at his neck. Luckily, he was very inexperienced, and all he managed was to gnaw at the long fur on the guardian's cheek. Trying to shake off both of them, Munkustrap saw, in the corner of his eye, that Mungojerrie was holding up well against his attackers, his agility getting him out of the way of most of their strikes and allowing to place his own.

The two toms held on to Munkustrap like a vice, probably realizing that he'd be able to retaliate as soon as they let go. But he had to get free and help Jerrie! He crouched even lower, and, using his strong legs, rolled all three of them around. The tom who was clawing at his back released him immediately, scrambling to get free from under the guardian. Munkustrap payed him no attention and focused on his other attacker. He rolled into a ball and kicked at the tom's head. The kick was precise but on the weak side - he didn't want to kill him, just shake him off. The other tom reeled backwards, four parallel gashes across his muzzle. 

Completely free, the guardian jumped on his feet, coming face to face with two other toms who were now covered in scratches like they've gone through a lawnmower. They dashed to the side and picked up their disoriented comrade who still had trouble walking straight after hitting the wall. The next moment, all five of them scrambled away to the main road, their tails between their legs. Munkustrap watched them leave with a hooded eyes, and, convinced they weren't coming back, released a breath he was holding.

'Jerrie… Earth and the Heavyside Layer,' he swore, shaking his shoulders to dislodge the dirt from his coat and bring his fur back down. 'What were you thinking?! Jumping the five of them?' He finally turned to give the young tom a proper scolding, but as soon as he turned, all sternness left his eyes to be instantly replaced with concern. 'Jerrie?'

The young tom, disheveled and ragged, was lying next to a brick wall in the corner of the street, not moving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Battle 1 – done! Was it awful in all senses of the word? I was surprised to find out that awful used to mean awesome until the mid-19th century.


	4. Into the fray

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for cat-typical dog-o-phobia. Basically, cats being prejudiced against dogs. A phrase I never thought I'd write.

'Jerrie?! No, no, no, no, no,' Munkustrap couldn't stop repeating as he ran up to the young cat and was looking him over. There were several deep scratches on his coat, but nothing serious enough to cause a faint. The Guardian bumped Mungojerrie's head with his own, but the young tom didn't wake up, his head falling limply back onto the dirty cobblestones. With his heart pounding in the tips of his ears, Munkustrap brought his nose close to Mungojerrie's muzzle. It took him several heart-stopping moments to confirm that the young thief was still breathing. 'Jerrie?' He called again, gently nuzzling his neck and feeling a weak pulse below the skin.

'Showed 'em, didn't we, Munk?' The weak voice reverberated in the throat under the guardian's nose.

'Jerrie!' Munkustrap released a heavy breath and leaned back. 'Are you alright?'

'Yeah, just bumped my head...' The young thief tried to stand up, but lost his balance immediately, flopping back onto the ground.

The Guardian looked into Mungojerrie's eyes and saw that his pupils were dilated and uneven, as if in the dark. Clearly, the bump on the head wasn't as light as the other cat thought. Munkustrap took a stifled breath, his leather neck strap suddenly becoming constricting like a choke collar. He couldn't stop asking himself where he went wrong. And every moment he was finding new answers. Munkustrap shook his head, focusing on the present moment. He still had to get them both home. But with Mungojerrie not being able to stand, let alone walk, that was easier said than done.

'Come on, get up,' he said, pushing him up with his side so that the young tom was leaning on him for support. 'Can you get on my back?'

'Hadn't done vat since I waf a kitten,' Mungojerrie chuckled drowsily, clearly disoriented.

The young thief was apparently incapable of any coherent action. With a tired huff, Munkustrap dived under him and raised him on his back. Mungojerrie's legs were still touching the ground, but that was still more efficient than trying to get him to walk.

'Hold on, will you?' Munkustrap said, trying to balance the young tom on his back and determined not to estimate how long the road back to the junkyard would take. The answer was obvious – too long. Mungojerrie couldn't hold onto him very well, and the same muscle that allowed him to do crazy jumps and serve as a stepladder for his sister also made him quite heavy to carry around. Munkustrap focused on making careful calculated steps, watching the dirty cobblestones beneath his paws so he wouldn't slip. One step, another one, leaning left so that his cargo would stay in place. Six more steps took him to the trash cans at the mouth of the dead-end. Another couple of steps would get them onto the main street.

He looked up to see how far the trash cans were, and froze.

Three dogs entered the by-street, and stopped abruptly the moment they noticed the cats. Acting on instinct alone, Munkustrap shoved Mungojerrie off his back and towards the trash cans. The young thief fell down, losing consciousness again. The Guardian stepped between him and the dogs, his back arched, fur bristling and side turned to the new danger in an attempt to make himself look bigger.

'Blimey, look what the cat dragged in!' said a mutt of undetermined breed and color with floppy ears. The other two dogs barked out a laugh at the obvious joke. One of them was a small furry dark grey terrier with long hair falling into his eyes, another – some variation of a sheep dog three times Munkustrap's size. The dogs were rather disheveled and, to a cat's nose, so smelly that the trash cans nearby must have been the only reason he didn't smell them before he saw them.

The guardian's ears pinned back and his heart sank as he assessed the situation. He could easily outrun and outmaneuver three stupid dogs. But he had a half-unconscious friend behind him, which meant he would have to fight. But no cat, no matter how skilled, could hold his own against three dogs at once. In short, there was no way he was going to make it out of the street with Mungojerrie, and there was no way he was going to try making it out without him. This was the end.

The dogs stopped laughing, and looked over Munkustrap and Mungojerrie.

'What do you say, chaps?' The sheep dog looked at his friends. 'One cat for a chase, and a dead one for lunch?' he bared his teeth.

'Be careful not to choke,' Munkustrap growled, ruffling his fur and leaning on his front paws. The claw marks on his back stung, but he was determined to not go down without a fight. He already prepared for a pounce, when in his side vision he saw the little terrier shuffling closer to them like a living mop. Munkustrap whipped his head round to face the smaller dog, but the latter seemed to have no interest in him.

'Now wait just a tad, Glenfly,' the terrier said in a raspy voice, addressing the sheep dog. The terrier's fur obscured his muzzle, but judging by the voice he was much older than the other two dogs. 'Cats run, we chase. This one doesn't budge. That's reyt strange.' Lost in thought, the terrier gave a short irritated bark. Munkustrap recognized it, and his overstressed brain put things together. He wasn't just crossing the cats' territories coming here, he must have wandered into the Pollicles' turf, too. Not that it mattered who was going to kill him...

The terrier finally came out of his reverie, and turned to Munkustrap. 'Say, laddie, tha' aren't happen to be a Jellicle Cat?'

Munkustrap's ears perked up in surprise, and he nodded slowly, eyeing the small dog with suspicion and still keeping his back arched.

'I am...'

'Yeah, that'd explain it.' The terrier nodded, apparently satisfied with the answer, and turned away with a clear intention to leave.

'What does it matter what cat he is? A chase's a chase, right?' Glenfly, the sheep dog scowled. As soon as he bared his teeth, the mutt hurried to stand between him and a rather confused Munkustrap, addressing the latter.

'Sorry, guv, there's been a slight misunderstanding. See, my cousin 'ere,' he nodded back at the sheep dog. 'He's new from the home county. Just out of 'e kennel. Doesn't get it in the city yet,' he turned back to the sheep dog. 'Now, Glenfly, wha'd I tell you? The Pollicle rules?' He must have expected the other dog to reply, but he had a rather lost expression, a bit like the one Mungojerrie usually had during play rehearsals. The mutt sighed, and recited in a didactic monotone: 'Always back and protect the pack, do right by a fair fight, ne'er speak to a peke, an' don't try to get a Jellicle Cat.'

Munkustrap stumbled a bit, and not entirely due to a cramp from maintaining a battle stance for so long. Pollicles weren't a problem for them for a while now, but he just assumed they were too busy barking at every living thing in the vicinity to wander into the junkyard. He had no idea they actually had a rule against that.

'Who cares about the stupid rules, Growler?!' Glenfly snarled. 'It's just us here, no-one will even know what got them!'

'Aye, 's your funeral, lad,' the old terrier shook his head.

'And what's that supposed to mean?'

'See, tha's only true if you're lucky,' the mutt explained. 'And if you're not, well… You've met Bythomor, haven'tcha? Good fighter 'e was, from Walsall line. The poor bloke still can't look at a cat, let alone chase one. Ever wondered wha' 'appened to 'im? See, one rainy day Bythomor ran after a wee black kitten that got too curious for 'is own good. Chased 'im all the way to the junkyard,' Munkustrap froze where he stood, in his battle stance, eyes growing rounder as the shocking realization dawned on him. He remembered that day, too. All too clearly. 'And turned out, tha' wee kitten had a big brother. Huge, fiery eyes, glowing fur, right outta hell the way Bythomor tells it. Gave 'im all 'is scars. Can't remember the name, Bythomor heard the kitten shout it. Some sort of a beast. Like Monkey. Or Mongoose…'

'Munkustrap?' the half-conscious Mungojerrie managed from where he laid next to the trash bins.

'Yeah, right, tha's the one!' The mutt nodded enthusiastically, caught up in his own story. 'So, Glenfly, you wanna risk your life over a cat – help yourself. Just don't expect us to stick our necks out for ya, we kinda like to keep our hides.' The sheep dog stumbled back with a disappointed growl, his appetite for a chase clearly curbed.

Munkustrap was sure he got killed and went straight to the Heaviside Layer, because that couldn't be real. His panicked suicidal attempt to defend his little brother from a raging bulldog could not have become the reason Pollicles wouldn't go anywhere near the junkyard. Sure, scaring off a dog twice one's size was a big deal for a cat, even if he had the advantage of surprise, the rain, and the familiar junkyard surroundings to help him, but he had no idea it would be something remarkable for a dog. In truth, Munkustrap never gave it much thought. On that fateful day, three years prior, all his thoughts could have been summed up to 'No, please, Everlasting, not Rum Tum,' and after they both ran off, terrified, to hide somewhere in the far corner of the junkyard, maybe he had a thought of 'Oh, thank the Everlasting Cat we're still alive'. But even after that, he never considered his actions as something extraordinary. Surely, anyone would do exactly what he did when he heard a tiny voice screaming 'Munkustrap! Help! Brother, where are you?!', and would feel the same chilling horror he felt when he saw his little brother, barely an adolescent then and still very small for his age, making a beeline across the rain-drenched junkyard followed by a pair of jaws that could have swallowed him whole. As for the glowing eyes and fur… He saw white for sure, but whether it was from a lightning or just his mind blanking out from fear, he couldn't tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you don't find the doggies too annoying. They're here to stay, I'm afraid.


End file.
